Before PMR
by startwriting
Summary: This is what I think happened when Perry and Della met in 1983, two years before PMR.
1. Chapter 1

_Perry and Della really met again in 1983. This what I think happened. Chapter 1. _

The familiair crackling of a robe caught her attention. She opened her eyes, and put down the second cup of coffee she was about to enjoy. Reading a newspaper and having the best coffee in the town of San Francisco were definetely nice things to do while waiting for someone.

She didn't really know the woman in front of her, though she recognized her. She had a friendly face with soft eyes, and wore a judge's robe.

" Excuse me…." Also her voice was soft.

" Yes? Can I help you? "

" I don't mean to be rude, but I'd like to know your name, please? "

" Well, who is asking? " a little chuckle accompanied the demurely asked question.

" Mary-Ann Giles. "

" My name is Della Street, Your Honour. "

The silence wasn't as unpleasant as it seemed. They simply looked at eachother, recognizing eachother without any judgements exchanged, both noticing their resemblance.

" Nice meeting you, miss Street. "

" Nice meeting you too, Your Honour. "

They smiled and shook hands.

" Your Honour, might there be something I can do for you? "

_Yes, you can leave, go away. Though I know it wouldn't make any difference of course. And I kind of like you. _

" No, I just wanted to know who you are, that's all. Thank you. "

" But…. " Della narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

" I'm sorry to having disturbed you, please sit down again and enjoy your coffee. Goodday, miss Street. " She vanished as unexpected as she had appeared, leaving Della Street behind utterly amazed.

**Three weeks before**

" John, Magda, I'd like you to meet miss Della Street, my executive assistant. Della, please meet John and Magda Meyer. "

" Miss Street, nice to finally meet you. We've heard so very much about you. " The couple exchanged the usual phrases with her and her boss.

" Hello. It's very nice meeting you too. "

" Arthur, where do you always find these pretty ladies that are working for you? " John Meyer obviously approved of Gordon's employee.

She lowered her eyes at his assessing gaze, and rolled them in such a way that nobody could notice her aversion.

Yet, it was noticed. By someone that knew her all to well.

He had chosen to sit down at the table nearly opposite of the entrance, close to a pilar, to watch the entering guests silently, without being disturbed or noticed. His company for the night had already mingled with the crowd. The circumstances made him able to extensively take in all of the woman he used to introduce to people as his secretary and head of office until six years ago.

Earlier today he had seen her name on the guestlist next to Arthur Gordon's, and quickly phoned his date for tonight to tell her he had changed his mind about cancelling their appointment to go to this fundraising party. She had been too distracted and too surprised to ask what made him change his mind in the thirty seconds between this phonecall and the previous one.

Of course, if she had asked, he'd never told her the reason was Della Street.

Her radiant smile was still of the same breathtaking nature, time had added some soft lines to her face and some lovely little wrinkles next to her eyes. Her appearance didn't go unnoticed. He grinned while looking around how many heads turned to take in her presence. Her impeccable make-up and curly hair matched her dress into perfection. It was a damask dress, most women wouldn't dare to wear this fabric at the age of 60, but she did. And looked ravishingly beautiful in its pinkish color. Her white high heels and pearl necklace and earrings completed her attire close to perfection. He noticed her legs were bare, and remembered the softness of her skin, and how it had felt to his fingers while taking off her silk stockings.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. He had just watched her for five minutes and these thoughts were entering his mind already. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. He stood up to find Mary-Ann.

His eyes were scanning the crowd, while he heard the sound of familiair laughter. Her genuine chuckles told him she was having a good time now. Though he tried to shake them off, the memories of their laughter together oozed through the reality of the partyhall. Their inside jokes, their bouts of laughter during the long hours at the office, both shared with their dear friend, Paul Drake. The joy of sharing the same sense of humour with Della, in court, in the office, in bed, in the kitchen, everywhere actually, even at partys like these.

His view on the crowd became misty. He quickly rubbed his eyes before anyone noticed the moist that was filling them.

A hand on his arm pulled him back to the present. " Perry, I want you to meet the associates of the lawfirm I used to work for, before becoming a judge. " Mary-Ann looked at him, noticing his pale color. " Are you all right? " He gave her his best smile. " I am. I am just tired I suppose…" Della's presence, without her knowing he was there too, was stabbing him. He wanted to talk to her. Or didn't he?

But she knew he was there of course. She had noticed his impressive appearance first thing when she came in. And also the woman that held his arm tight to her and looked up to him, obviously admiring him with soft eyes.

His posture was as imposing as when she last saw him. Distinguished, with grey hair, his handsome face framed by a grey beard now. It suited him. She took in his charming, dignified attitude, together with his gentle smile, his strong hands shaking hands, laughing, joking. The tuxedo fit him, matched his eminent appearance and the brilliant brain that he was so well respected and known for.

She noticed his eyes wandered through the crowd.

Then, inevitably, their eyes met. It was a glance. A long glance. All he did was stare. She narrowed her eyes, hesitated, then turned to Arthur Gordon who gently pulled her arm to introduce her to another of his businesspartners. While Arthur rest his hand on the small of her back, she turned her face to see the blue eyes that had stared at her before. They were gone.

Arthur asked her to dance, but she declined friendly and excused herself. Avoiding the chance she'd meet the blue eyes on the dancefloor. Instead she went to the bar at the side of the hall to have a drink on her own. She liked the quietness of the place. It eased her emerging headache.

But not for long.

" You look ravishing as ever, miss Street. " She needed a little more than five seconds to get herself together. She hadn't seen or heard this coming. He stood right next to her at the bar.

" Thank you, Your Honour, " her throaty voice and demure smile went to the pit of his stomach immediately. It had definitely been a mistake to come here.

" How have you been? " She watched him, but he couldn't answer her look. Afraid of what it would cause to his steady appaerance.

" Oh, quite all right I suppose…." he tried to sound solid.

" Are you? You don't seem to be very enthousiastic. " Her concern was genuine. Her voice was genuine. Everything about her was genuine. More genuine than the attitude of most people in this hall, showing off their wealth, talking business, carefully weighing their mutual interests to gain more of whatever it was they wanted to gain. Under the cloak of charity.

" That's because I miss you like hell. " It was a thought that just broke away. There it was, he had said it out loud, and he wasn't sorry, because it was the truth.

" What? " suddenly she seemed nervous. Her hands toyed with the zipper of her purse.

" I think you heard me…." he turned his face to hers. Big brown eyes stared at him in disbelief.

" Yes, I heard you. For the first time in five years…..Your Honour... " Her eyes were fierce. He told her he missed her like hell? What about their struggle to have as much time together as possible the first year of his judgeship, and then their massive blow up, and the following five years of absolute silence?

She pushed her anger away, and looked at him. She could still read his face and ways like a book, and measure his state of mind by the tone and timbre of his voice. And by the stare in his eyes and the darkness of them. There was not even a slight sparkle in his eyes. He really was unhappy.

She looked away from him. This was too much for her to handle. She could have handled seeing him with another woman, dancing with another woman, holding another woman close, seeing him having a good time, feeling good. But not this. She couldn't see him unhappy. She couldn't bare to see him unhappy.

" Excuse me….." Tears were about to surface. She had to get out.

" No, Della…" But all he could do was watch her run away from him. Again, and literally this time.

He sighed.

" Can I get you anything, Your Honour? " the bartender had noticed the tension between his two customers, and looked at him worried.

The Honourable Judge Mason in front of him scratched his neck and stroke his beard slowly. " Do you have a pen? "


	2. Chapter 2

_My need for drama displayed here. _

_I still need R&R to pactise my English, and writing. And yes, I like the nitpicking, so please do if you feel like it._

**Chapter 2**

The rail of the balcony felt soothingly cool to her shaking hands. The curtains gently moved through the doorway and drifted back again, making the music and muttering from inside the hall come to her in waves.

Her anger had reduced and was replaced by the soft ache she had become familair with over the years. Her reaction to his words had been far out of place. After all, she herself also hadn't contacted him during that five years either. Not that she never had wanted to, but something had stopped her.

It was her deeply rooted secretarial way of coping with life and its twisting and turning. Filing all memories in boxes, and storing them, to be able to find them when it suited her. To be able to find specific memories when wanted, to relive them if she longed to do so, or to despise them if she had to, and all of this in a controlled manner. This struggle for control had haunted her this last decade. Her most violent struggle being the one to control her feelings for the man she had loved, cherished and honoured for better and for worse for almost thirty years. Three decades of feeling married to eachother and their jobs, both very contented without the actual vows spoken and without their confirming signature on a piece of paper.

The way they had lived in this unconventional relationship suited them well, yet it was this unconventional way that had allowed them to drift apart. Slowly but inevitably, they went their own seperate ways setting different priorities after he had decided to take the judgeship when he was asked. He hadn't talked to her first, hadn't given them time to find out what this meant for their relationship, and how they were going to cope. He had just answered instantly to his suffocating need for a huge and permanent change, at a crucial moment in their lives when all she had wanted was for things to stay the same for as much as possible. After a year of remoddeling, adjusting to his new career in San Francisco while her own life continued in L.A., they unspokenly decided to stop seeing eachother. Like they had unspokenly decided to be married before.

She knew when it had started. After the sudden deaths of both Burger and Tragg, and the ordeal of the terrible sickbed and death of their longtime friend Paul Drake, time should have had the courtesy to stand still. To offer them the crucial silence to shed their tears and to mourn. Three funerals in one year had taken their toll on them, they had not been able to put up with so much fundamental loss in so little time.

Suffering from their emotional state of mind, she had healed herself by concentrating on the practical details that had to be dealt with on a daily basis. She had hugged herself doing groceries, managing the daily business at the office, cleaning and clearing for long hours. He had fled from daily routine, and by doing so, he had fled from her. He had told himself and her he wanted more of life, allowing himself no time to grieve, considering it a waste of time. And at their age, he found, there was no time to waste. He considered taking the judgeship a very logical, if not a lifesaving step.

Their different ways of dealing with life at this stage divided them into the two individuals they were before living and working together as one.

What else was there to say? Memories filed away safely, she picked up another daily working routine in another job, ignoring the screaming voices in the back of her mind that yelled at her day and night that this was wrong. Luckily, the voices grew more and more silent over the years. As long as she didn't have to see him, as long as they didn't meet, as long as she didn't think of him, things were ' _fine, just fine_'.

Tonight just his eyes and the few words he had said, had tossed all memories on the floor and she desperately tried to pick them all up, experiencing the pain and grief that came with them, together with the joy, the thrill and contentment of the precious moments. So precious to her, she didn't want to lose them. While that probably was the best thing she could do right now, lose them. To be able to really start a new life, without him, without using her life with him as a measuring device to consider every single thing she did now, every change feeling odd, every other man a poor substitute for the one she had really ever wanted, and had lost.

She swallowed her tears, promising herself to shed them at a more convenient time. She had practised withholding tears over the years. They would ruin her make-up now anyway, and she had to face Arthur Gordon without having him worried about her. She'd tell him she wanted to go back to the hotel, and take a taxi to get there. She needed time to think and file what had happened tonight in the two minutes she had been standing closer to Perry Mason than during the five years before.

Inhaling deeply, she turned her weary body with the intention to walk into the hall again to seek for Arthur. The dark shape of Perry in the doorway of the balcony didn't surprise her but merely humoured her in a strange way. She turned around again to hold onto the rail of the balcony. For support or whatever it was that made her feel better touching the cold metal. Yet, the trembling started again.

His approaching footsteps sounded heavier than she remembered from years ago, earlier tonight she had already noticed he had gained weight. It kind of suited him like the beard did. It made his appearance even more powerful than it already was.

He took in a deep breath, before he spoke to her in a soft voice.

" I'm sorry, Della….I didn't mean to upset you...but it was the truth...I do miss you…."

His long strong fingers lingered to hers, gently, just to see if she accepted the intimacy of his touch. She didn't move, so he held her slender hand for a few moments, before turning it. He caressed her palm with his thumb. Letting out a sigh, she turned her gaze from the image of their hands together.

They both closed their eyes, but it didn't help. In the perpetual minute that followed, they had the same memories stabbing them, memories of their hands together, fingers entangled, strolling on the beach, enjoying lazy sundays in bed, leaving the office together at impossible hours, entering the office together at impossible hours, dancing the night away, watching sunrises, sunsets. His fingers on her heated skin, his fingers inside her, her soft hands on his chest, her hands running through his hair when he ravished her breasts, her fingernails in his shoulders, his hands holding her face, her hands holding his face at their countless moments of simultaneous release.

Fingers whiping away tears, hands slamming doors.

She didn't see what it was he left in her hand, before gently closing her fingers over it, squeezing them and then letting go, slowly, reluctantly. Noticing her trembling, he swallowed hard.

" Call me….we need to talk…. "

He placed his hand in her hair softly and drew her head to him to lightly brush his lips to her temple. The touch of his beard was soft, like the touch of the hairs on his arms and legs, she remembered dearly. She inhaled his scent, still the same, his cologne, mixed with some of his sweat, wine. But different because of a small wave of an unfamiliair woman's perfume.

" …..please… " his hoarse voice pleaded softly.

At the sound of his leaving footsteps, she sighed and opened her hand to see a little piece of paper. She unfolded it.

Written on it, in his handwriting, were two phonenumbers, both direct lines she could tell by the composition of them. He had signed with " P " , like he used to sign his little notes to her in the office, ages ago. Her hands shook less, untill she turned the piece of paper to see what it was he had written on. The sight of it caused her so carefully withheld tears to stream down her face.

It was a receipt of the purchase of her favourite perfume. It was dated April 17th, 1977. The last gift she had accepted from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

" Is something wrong, Perry? " She wore his spare robe when she stepped through the sliding doors onto the terrace to join him. At this time of night the view from his penthouse on San Francisco was breathtaking, he loved it. She just looked at him.

" What could be wrong? " His gentle blue eyes smiled at her.

" Well, you seem so distracted. Do you miss your old life? Chasing the bad guys, defending clients in court yourself? "

" Yes, I do sometimes, but I think I'm too old to get back to that kind of life. Besides, being a judge has some nice benefits, like having fellow judges. " He looked at her boyishly, but she didn't get the joke.

" Too old? " she took his glass from him, and tasted the whiskey. " Do you also think you are too old to get married? " She watched him from over the rim of his glass, before handing it back to him.

" Are you proposing to me again? " he raised his eyebrows.

" Yes, I am, Perry Mason…. I still think we should get married, I still think we'd make a great couple…., " her hands carressed his hair and his face. He closed his eyes.

" My God, Mary-Ann…marriage….it's quite something." He drew her to him and kissed her forehead. " Give me some more time to think about it. "

" Sure, " she kissed his cheek, " but don't take too long….and don't take too long now….come to bed…." her indexfinger drew a line from his earlobe down his neck through his grey chesthair to where his robe started to cover his naked skin.

Della would definetely have lingered her hands down now to untie the sash to….Della. He had to stop thinking about Della. He had given her his phonenumbers last Friday, but she hadn't phoned him yet. Maybe she didn't want to see him or speak to him again, she had seemed very upset. On the other hand, it was only Tuesday now. Still, the possibility that she would actually never use the phonenumbers hurt him more than he would ever admit to anyone.

Mary-Ann watched his face. There it was again, the sad gaze. There was always something sad about him. She blamed the cases he had handled, both as an attorney and as a judge, cases concerning all kinds of sadness and madness people went through in their lives. He had seen and still saw people at their worst, abused, abusing, killed, killers, lying, cheating, incriminating themselves. It took a pair of massive shoulders like his, to be able to cope with human evil for such a long time. Maybe things were getting to him now. Maybe he needed to retire? Or he needed a vacation, for just the two of them. She'd love to take him on a honeymoon.

She was convinced they would make a great couple, both being judges, both smart with the same fascination for law and teaching. Everyone around them was convinced they would make a great couple. But he wasn't. Yet. She would give him another week to think about it.

" I'll be right there…" he said while he watched his fellow judge walk into his bedroom, and tried unsuccesfully to ignore how much she resembled Della Street. Same height, same smooth curves, same coiffure, both always dressed impeccable. Eyebrows arched into perfection. They could have been sisters, Mary-Ann being just three years younger than Della.

He held onto the rail of his terrace, overviewing the lights of the city of San Francisco. Back in L.A. he had watched the lights of the city like this a thousand times, holding Della from behind with his arms around her waist, whispering something to her ear to make her laugh or to make her smolder with fierce desire for him. Then she would turn around in his embrace and just bluntly open his belt and tell him, order him, to make love to her. Or mumble a joke to his ear that she knew would make him shake with laughter.

She would laugh at him now, making sultry jokes about his longing for her. Because that's what he did, wasn't it? He was longing to be with Della Street, strongly, having a lady in his bed resembling her. She would make ludicrous fun of him, confront him with all he was so obviously ignoring.

She'd tell him the truth: he was living a life that wasn't his, and didn't fit him.

He felt sad. He had never been able to completely forget her, nor did he want to. Her ways around him were carved deeply in his own. To forget her meant losing a part of himself.

But maybe he should just try harder. Maybe it was time to move on, cherishing Della's image in his life as a precious memory, a monument. Getting married to Mary-Ann gave him at least the oppurtunity to have and to hold someone while he was getting older. After all, he was turning sixty-six pretty soon. She loved him, he knew that. But did he love her? And if he did, did he love her for who she was? Or did he love her because she looked like the woman he had ever really wanted and had lost?

Lost to his fear of loss, ironically. The sharp pain of losing his best friend Paul Drake to a dreadful disease had shaken him, and scared him to his own death. What if he would die, without having done all that he wanted to do? And worse, what if time took away Della from him? What if she had a heart attack like Hamilton or a stroke like Arthur, and he wouldn't even have the chance to say goodbye to her? He probably wouldn't survive himself. The fear had suffocated him throughout the days, had haunted him in his dreams at night, had made him terrible to live with, resentful towards joy, pleasure, and in the end even towards her, her care, and her deep love for him. And then tragically, towards his love for her.

Desperately, there was indeed no other word for it, desperately ignoring his need for her.

Ignoring that it quite possibly was their love he needed to be able to cope.

He knew he had thrown away every right to ask her to come back in his life. He had taken the judgeship right away when it was offered to him in 1977. He had just like that accepted the fact that she didn't want to come with him. He had left behind more and more of Los Angeles and Della every time he went back to San Francisco after his short visits. He hadn't fought with her for their relationship, assuming the hole in his heart would be healed by the grace of time, because that was what they said, wasn't it: 'time heals all wounds'.

Well, they were wrong. Instead, time had just smoothened and polished the sharp and rough edges, making the hole even bigger, and more round of shape. He could look right through it now, every damned time he looked in the mirror. He had even grown a beard, so he didn't have to shave and look in the mirror for long every morning.

Swallowing hard, he turned his back on the city of San Francisco, and went inside. He rubbed his eyes, he hated it when his emotions got in the way of his thoughts. Investigating was nice, but investigating his own mind definetely was not. He needed someone with him to help him understand, and yes, the only one he could think of…..

He finished his drink and left the glass on the diningtable. He didn't want to make love to Mary-Ann, who he knew was waiting to be his. He didn't dislike the sex, he just didn't want her in his arms afterwards, knowing he would be staring at the ceiling in some sort of regret that had haunted him for a long time, but was severely stronger since he saw Della last Friday.

He sighed and went into his study to reread some briefs for tomorrows sessions. To do what he always did to forget. Work.

When he switched on the light in the study, he made a decision. He was going to phone Arthur Gordon's office first thing tomorrow morning. He wanted to talk to Della before getting married to someone else. He had to see her.

&-\+

Arthur Gordon would normally have lost his temper twice by now, if it had been anyone else he had to call out for six times, before he received an answer. But, since it was Della Street he was adressing to, he was more patient. Somewhere in his tired mind and heart, he liked her. And something had been bothering her, very much.

" I'm sorry, mr. Gordon. Can I get you anything? "

" You can answer me immediately next time I ask you something…. "

" I'm sorry, mr. Gordon. What can I do for you? "

" I want to see the results of our projects in Berlin and Paris, and I want you to arrange lunch at one o'clock tomorrow with my wife at this club of hers. "

" Consider it done. "

" Della…."

" Yes, mr. Gordon? "

" What's bothering you? "

" Nothing, I'm fine. Really. Just fine. "

" Della, you're always just fine. " She avoided his investigating stare at her. " But I can tell you're not now. "

She shook her head and pulled at her skirt to remove a little plush that wasn't there.

" It's this guy, Mason, isn't it? " He considered the silent moist that was filling her eyes as an affirmative answer.

Sometimes all he could do was just watch his executive assistant in absolute awe. How often had he tried to get through to her? Asked her to have dinner with him, to break though her facade to see what it was she was hiding behind these hazel eyes? To take in whatever it was that was in the depths behind her demure smiles and her gracious moves? Of course he had immediately considered her a very attractive woman, but she had always kept her distance to him. He didn't want her, he just wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know who she was.

Mason himself had told him that she was a miracle, and that he really wouldn't be sorry for hiring her. He had indeed never been sorry at all. She had brought out the best in him, like Mason had told him she would, when he had phoned him for a reference years ago. She was the best assistant he ever had, not just because of her secretarial skills, but also because she coped with his moods and bad temper in a smooth way.

" Phone him, Della… You know he phoned to the office this morning to talk to you when we were in conference. "

" I know. "

" Phone him. "

" I'd rather not. I wouldn't know what to say. "

" My God, Della. Of course you'd know what to say, make one of your jokes first to break the ice. And then just see what happens. But talk to him for God's sake. I don't want to see you feeling bad in here. It shows, you know. Makes me feel miserable. " He held her at her upperarms, and gave her a gruff smile. " You can use the phone in my office….now whipe your tears away. I don't like tears. "

She felt nervous like a teenager in love, before a first date. She smiled. This was ridiculous. Speaking to someone she had spent almost all her days and nights with for over thirty years shouldn't be this nerve-wracking. After all, he had not only been her lover, he had also been her best friend and her boss. And she was also missing him like hell.

After Arthur Gordon left her in his office and closed the door, she picked up the phone and dialed the first number on the note he had given her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Please keep on R&R..._

**Chapter 4**

" Mason. "

Shaking off the awkward feelings, the woman that was Della Street took over.

" Perry, it's me. "

" Della…" he had to be smiling now. His voice was smiling.

" I have a question for you that's been bothering me since you passed me that note last Friday. "

" Tell me. " He was indeed smiling. It was a contented smile, a smirk actually.

" I was just wondering if you could buy me the same perfume as you did for my birthday six years ago. I've ran out. " He roared with laughter, but only after he heard her laugh.

" Well, I might be able to get you a new supply, if you want me to. "

" That would be nice. "

" However, there are two conditions, Miss Street….." Not sure if he could say this, he decided to take the chance. After all, there was nothing left to lose.

" Tell me, Your Honour. "

" First, you'll have to come and get it at my place. " The little chuckle on the other side of the line made his heart miss a beat. He deeply blessed her sense of humour.

" U-uh."

" Second, " he paused. He swallowed and closed his eyes, as if it was to hear her reaction come through more clear after the words he was about to speak, " I'll make sure it's not enough to last another six years. It might be barely enough for just two weeks this time. "

Her five seconds of silence made him sit straight up in his chair. He heard the sound of turning pages. Could it be that she was checking her schedule? Could it?

" Hmm-mmm, we'll see about that... How about tomorrownight? " His hands pitched forward to check his own schedule for tomorrow. Packed with appointments from eight a.m. untill eleven p.m.

" Fine with me. " He relaxed back in his chair again, " Can you be there at eight thirty? "

" I'll just have to see what time I can leave here. But I suppose I can be there at eight thirty, yes. "

" Della? "

" Perry? "

" Thank you for calling me… " The hoarseness of his voice surprised them both. As a reaction, it took her some time to be able to speak.

" I'll see you tomorrow, bye Perry. "

After she hung up, he looked at the telephone for a long time, as if it could provide him with more of the woman he had just been talking to.

Now he'd tell his secretary to reschedule his appointments for tomorrownight. He put up his feet on the desk, and allowed himself to doze off a little. He felt tired. Pondering on his decisions and their possible results had kept him awake all through the night.

The sound of his intercom woke him up.

" Yes? "

" Honourable Giles is here to see you, Your Honour."

" See her in, Caroline…."

He stood up from his chair, and stared out of the window, narrowing his eyes. Wondering if he was taking the right decision here. Now this was hard, wasn't it? As painful as it was, he really had wanted to talk about this with Della first, but he was going to talk to Mary-Ann now, because it felt like the right moment. What difference would it make anyway?

The door to his office opened and he heard her high heels entering his office. He turned to take in her appearance. Her soft hazel eyes greeted his blue stare smiling. He kissed her forehead lightly, and teasinly ignored her arms reaching for him before she sat down. He leaned onto his desk in front of her.

" You wanted to see me now, Perry? Why didn't you just call me? "

" Mary-Ann, " he leaned forewards to take her hands and kiss her fingers. " We have to talk. "

" I thought so. " the contented smile on her handsome blushing face was damning inviting to him. But he still wasn't sure if it was really hers. It could very well be Della's smile he was reflecting on her face. " Have you thought about my proposal? "

He smiled at her. " Yes, I have. "

%$&

It was no trouble at all to give him one of her radiant smiles, when he opened his frontdoor to her. Not only because she had actually looked forward to seeing him, also because she had fun thinking about the encounter she just had with the concierge of the appartmentbuilding. He had assumed she was someone else, so when she told him she was Della Street and she came to see Mr. Mason, he had refused to let her in. It took her a couple of minutes to talk him into phoning Mr. Mason himself to ask if it was all right to send her up.

" So, I take it you met our thorough and overprotecting concierge, didn't you? " He smiled at her, and stepped aside to let her in.

" I'm glad you told him to let me in. He was about to take my fingerprints…" she chuckled.

Maybe he had remembered, maybe he hadn't, but the sight of him like this, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, without tie and suitjacket had always made her head spin. Together with his sweet scent after a working day it had very often ignited a very strong passion in her, the memory of it made her smile silently. He was still quite attractive to her. She ignored the stirring in the pit of her stomach, she shouldn't be feeling it right now.

She followed him into his kitchen. Everything was large here, like the resident himself. Not much had changed since the last time she was here five years ago.

She had noticed a woman's coat on the hallstand, when she left her purse and jacket there. Fresh flowers on the diningtable. Pictures of her and Paul on the wall, pictures of his parents, his brother Robert with his wife and their three children.

No picture of the woman she had seen him with last Friday.

" Would you like a drink? "

" Yes, please. "

" Still the same? "

" Yes. "

" No ice? "

" No ice. "

His position in the kitchen, pouring them their drinks, gave him time and opportunity to watch her, to take in her smoothness, the graciousness of her movements. He thought about the urge he had felt to just take her in his arms when she walked in.

Now she was looking around in his home. It was so odd to have her here. He damned himself for being unable to think and act normal, he felt kind of nervous, out of order. Relieved that he had thought of some subjects to talk about. Like a schoolboy preparing for his first date.

" Well, I guess this is what you came here for. " He handed her a red box wrapped up with a white ribbon.

" Thank you… " she opened her gift, cursing the trembling of her fingers.

" Oh…" The box contained two dozen miniature bottles of the perfume she had asked him to get her. On every single one of them, he had written a number, she guessed they were referring to weeks. There was one miniature on top of the rest, wrapped in a transparent foil, and it had a little card attached to it. Written on one side was _Happy birthday tomorrow _and on the other side_ I'll bring you the next miniature in two weeks, wherever you are P._

" Thank you, Perry. " Her voice was soft. She was touched by his attention for her, touched that he had remembered her birthday was indeed tomorrow. She thought it was safe to lightly kiss him on his cheek. But it felt too close, way too close. She stepped back.

He noticed, and pulled back his hand that was lingering in the air to hold her at her shoulder.

" So, where do you want me to bring the next miniature bottle? "

" I'll let you know. " Her perfect answer to dissociate herself from any question asked.

He watched her, while he handed her drink to her, and toasted. " Here's to birthdays..."

" To birthdays..., " she confirmed, "… and presents... "

" And presents… " he confirmed. " Do you want to see the view I have from my terrace here? "

" Is it as good as the one you had back in L.A.? "

He slid the doors open, and let her go first before he stepped onto the terrace. " You can see for yourself. "

She stood still at the rail of the terrace for a long time. Her heart was racing, she needed to calm down, and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He had spoiled her like he used to do. He had gone through great lengths to get this gift for her. Miniature bottles of this perfume were very hard to find, especially at this short notice. But she suspected it hadn't been short notice, he must have planned it before. What did that mean? What was going on?

Whatever it was, it made her feel uncomfortable. She was not going to stay for long. It didn't feel right. But there were some things that really need to be said, and they were going to be said tonight.

" How have you been, Perry? "

" A judge. Busy. A busy judge."

" That's not what I asked. I didn't ask _what_ you have been. I know you are a judge, with all sorts of obligations and duties. I asked you _how_ you have been. How do you feel? "

How he wanted to get used to this question again. Asked by her, preferably. Nowadays, people just asked him about his cases, about his career. About his plans.

" Truth? "

" Of course. "

" Kind of lost..., " he looked at her from aside, " without you…"

" It seems to me that the state had provided you with a secretary right away? "

" That's not what I mean. I mean not having you around, not…." He sighed. " You know what I mean. "

" No, I actually don't know what you mean. Tell me…"

He didn't answer her question, but looked into her eyes. After two seconds she turned her face from him. This was too much, he was too close.

" You had quite a beautiful woman on your arm Friday…"

" She's a fellow judge. "

" Is that all she is to you? "

" Well... "

" Is she the one your concierge was confusing me with? "

" Probably, yes. "

" I see. Well, in that case, she has to be nice. " She looked at him from over the rim of her glass. Now he had turned his face from her.

" Does she love you, Perry? "

It had to be said. And he had to say it now. " I suppose so. She proposed to me..." He turned to her again, and saw her swallow and close her eyes.

" I should go. " Of course she had known this was coming, but she hadn't expected it would hit her this hard. As long as it had been an unspoken presumption, she had been able to ignore it. But now he had confirmed it, his voice had spoken the words literally, there was no mercy. It was a sharp, breathtaking pain, that panicked her from very deep inside.

She needed to leave. Now.

" Della..., " his voice came from far to her.

" Perry, I really should go. This is not right. You love someone else. " She left her glass on the diningtable, and hurried to the door. She had to get out.

" Della..., "

" I shouldn't have called you. I'm sorry. It was a mistake. "

" It wasn't. Will you listen to me? "

She grabbed her purse and jacket and opened the frontdoor. " I'm sorry I've let you go through the trouble of buying me a birthdaypresent. Really, I…"

" Listen to me. "

His arm went around her to close the door. His hand next to her on the door was close, too close. His nearness made her feel sick. " Let me go, Perry, please. Don't make this any harder for me. " It was like a sob.

All she wanted now, was leave, to open the door and just leave, close the door behind her forever and allow the tears to surface. Tears of letting go, saying goodbye forever, not to return. Never to be hurt like this again.

" Let me go... "

" Listen to me! " His hand hit the door just hard enough to shut up the hammering, crying voices in her mind for just a moment.

" I turned her down. "


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

" I turned her down. "

The waves of what she heard slowly outlined into sounds, then turned into letters, becoming syllables, turning to words, and then became a complete sentence. And then there was meaning added to it.

He had turned her down.

_No assumptions, Miss Street, they get you nowhere. We only deal with facts here. _It had been his first lesson for her. Now she had assumed, and it had gotten her nowhere.

" She misunderstood me, Della. She didn't ….. I, we, … well, I guess we never…" He couldn't finish his sentence. How could he explain to her now or ever, that no woman had ever come close to her?

" There is only one person who I would share vows with…" his hoarse voice cracked finishing the sentence.

Her eyes were still closed, her hand on the doorknob.

" But somehow, somewhere I lost her to my own career and hers, to fear, stubbordnness, to pride. To stupidity. But I'm sure we'd find a way if she would only let me tell her how much I miss her, how much I still love her. "

She still hadn't moved. The teardrop that left her eye, was caressed away by his thumb.

" I love you, Della. I've tried to stop it, but I can't. I need you. I want you. "

Finally, their eyes met for an intense exchange of new and old emotions. There was love, grief, fear, hurt, even some desire, despair. Yet fear was about to win. Her hazel eyes glinstened in the soft light of the hallway, while her hand let go of the doorknob.

" Still, I should go." The confidence she had felt coming to him at his home was strongly supported by her assumption that there was another woman in his life now, and she herself wouldn't have to think about her love for him. She had been utterly convinced he'd tell her he loved someone else. Utterly convinced he'd tell her he was sorry, and that all he could offer her now was friendship. Now that he told her otherwise, his nearness scared the living daylights out of her. Her mixed emotions overwhelmed her. Fear was winning.

" No, you shouldn't go. " He shook his head. " Why should you? "

" I'm confused. You confuse me. First, we don't see eachother for five years, then I see you with someone else, you tell me she wants to marry you, then you tell me you love me and you want me. " She sighed. " Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? "

" Talk to me. "

" I can't. "

" Why not? "

" I told you, you confuse me. I have to take time to think about it…."

" So, you came all the way here, travelled four hundred miles, to let me confuse you, and you're going back the same four hundred miles without talking to me about it? Do you seriously want me to believe that you came here to just pick up your present? I can hardly believe that, Della. No... " He used his courtroomvoice. It made her feel warm and very cold at the same time. " ...I don't believe that. At all. "

" I can deal with your presents, I can't deal with your presence. "

" Is it that bad to deal with me? "

" You have no idea... " the fierceness in her eyes made him turn around.

" I have loved you for so long, Della. Please don't tell me to stop. "

" Just for the record, Perry, you stopped it. You stopped 'us' being 'us'. You left me. You left everything you cared for including me, because of, because of…."

" Because of what? " He turned to her again. Their eyes were fierce when they met eachother. " Because I followed my dream? "

" Your dream? Is that what you call this? Your dream? Look around you, Perry. Is this your dream? From where I'm standing it turned out to be a nightmare, _Your Honour_. I've never seen you more unhappy than last Friday when you tried to convince me and yourself that you were doing fine. Remember? " She tried not to scream at him.

" Have you finished? "

" No, I haven't. Just give me another two minutes, and then I'll walk out of your dream forever. Exactly how many friends do you have to share this with, Perry, your dream? Except with a bottle of whiskey? Has your brother ever visited you here? And how many real friends? How many people care about you, Perry, about how you feel, about your grief? How many are there to talk to about your sleepless nights, about your fear to die before time? Does anyone know about our best friend Paul, and how he died, and about his son that felt like your own? He's had so much trouble to cope with you not contacting him for five years, Perry, do you realise that? And how many people know about me? Or did you come here to just forget about the past and start a new life? Well, in that case, you've done a pretty lousy job…."

He sighed, and pushed his hands to his forehead, closing his eyes.

" You even found yourself someone that resembles me, lucky you….. " the irony of it all was spread out pityless in front of him. " It's pathetic, Perry. I can't believe you allow yourself to be unhappy living a life that doesn't fit you. You're way too smart for that. "

There it was. As he had predicted, she told him the whole naked truth. Noone could do that the way she could, hitting him hard.

He heard his frontdoor open and close, and listened to her leaving footsteps. The ticking of her heels matched the racing rythm of his heartbeat.

No. Not again.

He ran after her, through the hallway to the elevator and pushed the button to open the doors. She still stood there, her eyes closed, unsuccesfully swallowing tears.

" Don't do this, Della, please, don't run away from me….talk to me. " He held the elevatordoor open by standing in the middle of it. " Be angry with me, hit me, but don't leave me. "

Her voice came out cracking, it was almost a whisper. " I don't know what to do anymore, Perry. I don't understand what's happening. I feel hurt. I feel relieved. I can't..."

" … control it. " He finished her sentence automatically. Her need for control, her filing nature. " Talk to me about it. We can do this. "

She finally opened her eyes, and watched him. The sad tenderness in his eyes made her weak, maybe she just had to surrender. Maybe control didn't fit in here.

He held out his hand to her. She didn't take it, but stepped out of the elevator, and stood still in front of him, whiping her tears away, then crossing her arms in front of her.

" We can do what, Perry? What do you want us to do? "

" Mr. Gordon gave you a day off for your birthday tomorrow, right? "

She narrowed her eyes. How did he know? " He did. "

" Celebrate your birthday with me tomorrow. We'll take it easy. "

" Do I want all of this, Perry? "

" You came to me not just lightly, Della. "

He was right. And spending her birthday with him could be nice. She had confronted him and said what she had wanted to say, and he had taken it in. He'd need some time to process it now, to give it some thought. They could explore the outlines of what still was going on between them. Whatever that was.

" Oh, to hell with it….. I guess you're right. I really don't want to be alone tomorrow. " She brought her hands up in the air, and let them rest on his chest. " But, I'm not going to get used to you again, Perry Mason. And, I'm not staying. "

" I'm not asking you to. " He gave her a small boyish grin, and continued softly, " Yet. "

" Perry! "

" I was joking. Come back in, and I make some phonecalls. I'll get you a hotelroom."

" I already did that myself. " Of course.

" Prepared as usual, aren't you? Well, then just come in to finish your drink. Please? "

They walked back together to his frontdoor at safe distance from eachother, when he suddenly stood still and scratched his neck. He looked at her, with a grimace that held both surprise and question.

Then he laughed.

" What? "

" I closed my frontdoor, and I didn't take a key…"

" You're serious…."

" Yes... "

She chuckled and shook her head. " So, that means? "

" Oh, it will be all right, I'll just have to go downstairs to, you know…"

" …the concierge…"

" Yes. "

" Well, good luck. I'll wait here for you. " Her eyes were smiling up to him, and he suddenly realised how close they were standing together.

" Please do. " His hand reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned her face from him.

" Don't. "

Patience.

" I'll be right back. "


	6. Chapter 6

_After drama, there's steam. No other way to put. If you don't like it, don't read it…._

**Chapter 6**

" I could seriously use a drink now. "

It had taken him half an hour to be admitted to his own penthouse. The concierge had asked him to fill in two forms, and had seriously wanted him to identify himself. Perry had said that he couldn't, his wallet was still inside, and that he needed a key to get in to fetch his wallet, and then he would be back to identify himself.

Following procedures, the concierge had refused that. After ten minutes of deliberating, the concierge decided to go to the frontdoor of the penthouse to open it himself, letting Perry in to get his wallet.

After he had proven he was really Perry Mason, the concierge had let him and Della in, and wished them a goodnight.

She laughed at the situation displayed in front of her. She felt better. Perry's absence had given her some time to think and calm down, though this also brought on more confusing questions. Walking up and down the cool hallway of the appartmentbuilding, she had been thinking how much she still loved him. How much she had really missed him, and how very attractive he still was to her. What if the struggle that had drifted them apart could also get them together again? He had obviously missed her too.

So what if he had gone through great lengths to get her this present, so what if he had planned it all? Maybe this was the right time for her to let go of control, maybe it was time to add some extra memories to the files? She didn't know.

What she did know, is that she felt better with every minute she was around him. What did this mean? What did it mean that she actually hadn't booked a hotelroom, but only made an incomplete reservation just in case? Did this make sense? Was she really driving home tonight? Or did she really want to be with him tonight? And what did that mean?

And did that really matter?

She hated the confusion. She decided to let go, and just watched him, as if they had never been apart. It made her feel better.

" My dear God. How's that for following procedures? " he grunted, leaning his forehead against the frontdoor. He grinned when he heard her holding back her laughter. It must have been quite a spectacle to her.

" What? " he playishly pretended to be offended.

She laughed her chuckles out loud now. " Oh, you just should have seen your own face…and his. And we must have been looking like a couple of idiots…, you barefoot, me with my crying eyes. "

" The look on his face….." he laughed out loud with her.

" He sure has a story to tell at home tonight..." She leaned back against the dining table and put her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Her chuckles, how he had missed her chuckles. It touched him deeply to have the sound of them in his house, her humour filled the empty spaces he had experienced here, gave him more room to breath. He quickly whiped away two tears, and just stood there, marvelling at the delicious sounds of her laughter and her matching breathtaking beauty. How the hell had he coped without her all this time?

She stopped laughing when she noticed he stood close to her, and she looked up to his face. The gentle blue eyes stared a very familiair stare. It made her feel warm, a kind of warmth she hadn't felt for a long time.

He took her hands, and kissed her fingers. He was surprised she accepted this intimate touch from him. But then she drew his hands to her and kissed them before pressing them to her forehead. She avoided his eyes now, she knew they'd be questioning. She decided to answer an unasked question.

" I don't want to be lonely anymore, Perry. I've been alone for too long. "

" What are you saying? " He leaned down next to her.

" I think we should talk about us. "

" Yes. We should. Now?"

" Yes, now. Is that okay? "

" Of course. "

" And we have tomorrow, "

" Yes, we have tomorrow, and you have to tell me what you want to do tomorrow. I know you stopped counting after thirty-nine, but it still is your birthday. "

" Don't you have to work tomorrow? "

" No."

So he had really planned it all. She would have to get used to this again. It made her feel dizzy.

" Are you all right? " His eyes close to hers.

" I am, Perry. " Her hand on his arm.

" So, let's talk about us. Where do we start? " His hand on hers.

" I don't know. Can you first just hold me for a while? "

" My God, Della, can I hold you for a while? I can hold you forever..."

He stood up and took her hands again, and pulled them to him to wrap her arms around him. She sighed, and moaned a little. His warmth, his scent. His chin on her head. She really had missed this.

Dwelling in the softness he felt in his arms, he forced her to look into his eyes. He knew he shouldn't, but he did. Leaning towards her face, he kissed her lips lightly, slowly, tentative, then drew back to see her reaction. Her eyes were closed, and he moved forward for one kiss, another, and another, lightly brushing her lips. A longer kiss, as he was holding her face now. Then she suddenly dropped her hands as her shoulders started to shake. Kissing her cheek he tasted the salt of her tears and he rest his chin on her head again. He moved his arms around her to embrace all of her completely, and swayed gently from one side to the other, waiting patiently until her sobbing would subside. She cried to his shoulder, silently allowing five year old tears to surface. Allowing him to spill some of his own without her noticing.

He kissed her temple a few times while he let her cry. He could easily stand like this the whole night, swaying, comforting her and holding her close.

Still hiding in his arms, she finally felt the strong tension and the need for control were leaving her body.

" I've missed you, " she whispered. " I've had so many lonely days and nights, I've felt so empty, Perry. I couldn't get back to you. I thought you wouldn't let me. "

He whispered to her. " Della, my Della. I … I couldn't, I thought I'd ruined it all. I… I was…." Too much emotions, too overwhelming. " I love you. We'll find a way. We will work this out…" He held her tight to him, and felt her moving her head to the side to rest on his chest. She sighed while she listened to him, his heart beating its rythm, his breathing deepened and calmed down.

" Hold me. It's been so long. "

" Far too long. " He placed soft kisses in her curls, while she rest her hands at the small of his back. They still swayed, dancing to music that wasn't there. Songs playing in their minds. Time passed.

He felt her relaxing against his chest. Loosening his grip on her, he rubbed her back and massaged her shoulders. It made her moan softly. He looked into her eyes. Something in their state slowly changed, her breathing heavied a little. She moved to give him more room to do what he was doing to her, closed her eyes again, giving him the opportunity to watch her face shamelessly in detail. Indeed, time had just added some soft lines to her face, and the lovely little lines next to her eyes touched him. He had to love her, he couldn't help himself. How could he have let her go?

He brought his hands up from her shoulders to hold her face and kiss her soft lips. Gentle. Sensuous, long kisses, nibbling her lips one by one, tracing hers with his own, brushing his face to her cheeks, he made her sigh. She smiled. The voices in the back of her mind told her this was good. It was okay.

" I better take you to your hotel… " His voice was stable, but underneath his skin his blood was racing through his veins. His need for her was old fasionedly fierce and about to take over, but he couldn't take the chance, not now.

" Maybe not…" What was she saying?

" I really should…" Determined not to ruin it this time.

" I don't think so…" What was she saying?

" Look at me… what are you saying? "

His heart burst when she opened her eyes to him slowly. In the dim light, he could see her darkbrown glinsten from the tears she had cried, and now they smoldered with desire as well as promise. This look took them back in time. Some things hadn't changed. A familiar sparkle in her eyes reached his groin.

They both gasped. Years had just evaporated into thin air.

He was not taking her to her hotel. At all.

Her hands travelled up to his chest, and curled around his neck to touch the hairs above his collar, then went back down to her own collar. Lingering his hands down to the small of her back, he looked into her eyes to see where he was going to start what they were about to dance into. But the answer was not in her eyes. He lowered his gaze, because the answer was there.

She was unbuttoning her blouse.

He kissed her, to feel her face tilting to the side as an invitation to deepen their kiss. She breathed into his mouth when he sought acces to hers with his tongue, to feel her and taste her sweetness. Her taste was so familiair it aroused him, he growled softly, slowly pulling up her blouse from her skirt to touch the silk skin he knew was there. She gasped at the touch of his hands on her bare skin, he moved his hands up to unclasp her bra. His demanding mouth left hers and trailed down to find the sensitive flesh of her neck, kissing her there, leaving bitemarks, while moving his hands over her arms one by one to slide off her blouse and the straps of her bra.

She pulled his face to hers again to feel and taste more of his kiss, and pushed her body against his to feel his arousel. Breathing heavily, she unbuttoned his shirt, while she locked her eyes on his, that were darkening. Of their own record, her hands slowly moved down to his belt to open it and unzip his pants to give him room. She fondled him, eliciting him to groan, which she remembered to be the start of delightful loss of control. She watched his handsome face as he closed his eyes, and held back his head to enjoy what she was doing to him.

Flashbacks of places where this had happened before. His desk, her desk, his bed, her bed, couches, her kitchen, his kitchen, bathroomfloors, hotels, cars. Memories of his body entangled with hers, to have, to hold. Losing control, slowly, but inevitably.

He held her on her upperarms to gently push her against the wall behind her. He kissed her deeply, roaming his hands all over her body, then following his hands with his mouth, tasting all of her, until he felt she was witless in his arms. He was all around her now, claimed her completely, cupping her breasts in his hands, her hands running through his hair, moaning, wanting more. His mouth continued caressing her, while his hands unzipped her skirt and pushed it down to the floor. Stepping out of it, she took his hands to let him lead her to his bedroom. On their way to his bed, they lost his shirt, her stockings, his pants, her panties, his briefs. He held her to him, as a treasure, felt her bare skin to his, kissing her hard, losing track of everything around them.

Time and place were no longer required now and so they vanished. " I want you Perry…," she breathed to his ear, " …take me…I want to feel you inside of me..."

He lay her down on the covers of his bed, not bothering to close curtains or switch on lights. Just her, her desire, her skin, her sighs, her pleasure, here and now, and more of her, now.

His hands went up and down her trembling body, his mouth kissing, biting, licking, touching her everywhere, no exceptions made, no rules, no boundaries, no fear, just skin on skin, now heated, burning. The sweetest battle and he was winning. She melted into him while his mouth devoured her, moving his tongue, he felt her nails digging into his shoulders. He parted her legs with his to have her again and completely.

Dazzled from her touch, her scent, her taste, her sounds, he sank into her warmth.

Upon his entering, her release was instant and strong. A deep cry escaped her chest. She pushed her nails in his upperarms, and sighed his name, and again and again.

Strongly withholding his urge to move, he marvelled at her reclaiming consciousness. It took her minutes.

" Has it been that long? " he whispered, his voice had left him. There was a lump in his throat. Not sure where it had come from, he swallowed it.

" You were the last…" a tear fell from her still closed eyes, and he kissed it away. Then she opened her eyes to him, and whispered. " I could never give myself completely to someone else. You were always there…."


End file.
